by Brenda Novak
“I understand. I’d rather you stayed on and continued to do your job. I’ll see to it that you get paid. I’ve told Tyrone the same.”
“Yes, I saw Tyrone on my way in, sir. It was a comforting sight. I believe it’s a good decision to keep him. We couldn’t have the yard here at Coldiron House getting overgrown.”
Obviously, she took great pride in where she worked. “No. That would be a real tragedy.”
She hesitated, as if she could tell he was being facetious, even though his first tongue-in-cheek comment about the impropriety of Maisey’s coming to his room had sailed right past her. She seemed to be waiting for some further cue from him, so he said, “That will be all, thanks,” and she left without additional comment.
He waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade before he got up. Then he burrowed through his suitcase for a pair of boxers, jeans and a T-shirt. When he retrieved his phone from the nightstand, he could see that he’d missed several calls from Maisey, as well as a few texts, because he’d turned it on Silent.
Coming, he wrote and sent it to her, although he was confident Pippa had already conveyed that information, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair.
By the time he hurried downstairs and entered the drawing room, Pippa had served Maisey tea and biscuits with honey and jam. He wasn’t groggy anymore, but traipsing around Coldiron House without his mother in residence felt odd. She’d always taken complete command of her home, even when his father was alive. She’d been such a dominant presence for so long, it was easy to forget Grandpa Coldiron had lived here first.
At the sound of his approach, his sister swallowed the bite she’d just taken and looked up. “Morning.”
“Same to you,” he said.
“You sleep okay?”
Her skeptical expression told him he didn’t look rested. “Not really. You?”
“Sort of.”
“Where’s my niece and my nephew? Are the kids with Rafe?”
“They’re at his mother’s. He’s repairing the vestibule of that old church near the marina today.”
“Will you bring the family over later?”
“Of course.” She lowered her voice. “I’d rather Laney didn’t hear us talking about her grandmother the way we need to this morning. Laney might be one of the few people who’s never felt conflicted when it comes to Grandma Josephine. And, oddly enough, Mother loved her. Inexplicably. Diligently. Even kindly.”
“That’s somewhat redeeming.” He helped himself to a biscuit without bothering to sit down or get a plate—something his mother would never have tolerated. “Have you heard anything new?”
“I stopped the autopsy.”
He’d received her text last night, which was why he hadn’t set an alarm to get up early this morning. “I saw that.”
“And just a few minutes ago I got permission to call in our own pathologist. I also made an appointment with the new chief of police. I guessed you’d want to talk to her.”
“Old Man Reuben finally retired?” Keith was fairly certain Maisey had mentioned it. She’d kept him abreast of the more noteworthy changes on the island. But he’d had no particular reason to remember that. He’d rarely had to deal with Chief Reuben himself. His mother had interceded whenever he got into trouble. She’d exacted her own retribution afterward, which was arguably worse than what he would’ve received had he been remanded to the police. But she would not allow scandal to befall the Coldiron name—another reason he couldn’t accept that she’d kill herself. What could be more scandalous than suicide? That had been her primary complaint when, in desperation, he’d felt it was his only escape.
“Yeah. We have a woman now. The city council’s showing how progressive they can be.”
“A woman, huh? How old is she?”
“Can’t be more than forty-one. Attractive, too. Really attractive.”
“Any good at her job?”
“Seems to be. There was a big write-up in the paper when they hired her. The article made her sound like a solid candidate. She’s from Chicago.”
“She have a family?”
“No. Her husband was in the military. Died in Afghanistan before they could have kids. They’d grown up two blocks from each other. Gone to high school together. I suspect that was part of the reason she was willing to leave the big city behind. Too many memories.”
“I can see wanting to leave, but what brought her here, of all places?”
“A kinder, gentler existence. Lots of sun and sand. Less violence. And there was a job for her, I guess.”
“What time do we meet with her?”
She checked her phone. “Yikes! We’ve only got twenty minutes—barely enough time for you to shower.”
“So that’s why you’ve been trying to get hold of me!”
“Yes.”
He broke off part of his biscuit, popped it in his mouth and slipped the rest onto her plate. “I’ll be down in fifteen.”
He was halfway up the stairs when Pippa stopped him. “Mr. Lazarow?”
The tone of her voice seemed uncertain, which made him curious. He turned to face her. “Yes?”
She opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider. “Never mind.”
“What is it, Pippa?” he pressed.
“I...I was wondering what you’d like for dinner, that’s all.”
He could tell that wasn’t what she’d had on her mind, but Maisey had come out of the drawing room, and Pippa seemed hesitant to speak in front of her. “What’re my options?”
“Salmon? Steak? Chicken? Pasta?”
“I’ll have salmon.”
“Will you be dining alone?”
He looked over at Maisey. “Do you and Rafe and the kids want to join me?”
“That’d be fun,” Maisey said.
“Is salmon okay?” Keith asked. “Will Laney eat it?”
“Sure. We all like salmon.”
Pippa acknowledged this with a nod. “Then I’ll plan for five.” She began to scurry off, but Maisey stopped her.
“Are you enjoying Mom’s Yorkie, Pippa? Or would you like to bring her to me?”
“I’d be happy to keep her—unless you have other plans.”
Maisey smiled. “No, Athena doesn’t do well with the cat we rescued. She’ll be much better off with you, but I’m happy to cover her expenses.”
“No, that’s fine. If she’s going to be my dog, I’ll take care of her.” Pippa cast Keith one final glance, reminding him of that moment a few seconds earlier when he’d been positive she had something to say. He was tempted to go after her, to ask what she had on her mind. He had the impression it was important. But he was also fairly certain she didn’t want Maisey to hear.
Question was...why?
6
THE NEW CHIEF of police at Keys Crossing was every bit as attractive as Maisey had said. About five foot six, 125 pounds, she didn’t look particularly strong, but she had a no-nonsense, direct approach, which Keith liked, and clear, intelligent blue eyes. Once he’d met her, he was glad the old chief had retired. Reuben had had a great deal of experience with minor infractions such as traffic violations, breaking and entering, petty theft and drunk and disorderlies during the summer, when the tourists arrived. But to Keith’s knowledge, he’d never investigated a homicide.
Since Chief Underwood—she hadn’t offered her first name—hailed from Chicago, he was hoping she’d have more familiarity with violent crime. But once he met her, he didn’t feel that was going to be the benefit he’d anticipated. She was fully convinced his mother had committed suicide and nothing he said seemed to sway her.
“There’s no reason to assume she’d take her own life,” he argued when she refused to change her mind.
“I hear what you’re saying,” s
he responded. “I noticed the suitcases myself. But there was no sign of anyone else having been in the house and no indication that she was sexually assaulted, for instance. That’ll have to be confirmed when the autopsy is performed, of course—we’re not jumping to conclusions there—but so far all signs point away from it.”
“There’s heart attack, stroke.”
“Which will also have to be considered and addressed during the autopsy. But the coroner said she didn’t have a flushed face. Her carotid artery wasn’t swollen. There was no bluish tinge to her nose, eyes or fingertips—all typical signs of cardiac arrest. I’m afraid the preponderance of evidence, at this point, suggests suicide.”
“Even with her impending trip?”
“It’s possible she didn’t decide to...to do what she did until the last moment.”
Keith gaped at Maisey, who was sitting next to him in Chief Underwood’s small office. “She wouldn’t suddenly decide to kill herself. That kind of decision takes serious thought.” He knew from experience.
“She must’ve,” Chief Underwood insisted.
“Why?” Keith cried. “She had everything. What was there to make her so intent on ending her life?”
Keith hoped the police chief wasn’t about to point to their estrangement. The fear that his mother had committed suicide and he was the cause clawed deeper by the minute.
She formed her slender fingers into a steeple. “You two must be going through hell. There’s no need to hash this out. Not right now. Go ahead and grieve, and make whatever plans you’d like to make so you can put her to rest. Then, when that’s all over, you can come back and we’ll talk, okay?”
A tingle skittered down Keith’s spine. “No, that’s not okay,” he said. “Why can’t we talk now?”
Her expression indicated that she was trying to be patient. “I only knew your mother for three years, after I came here. But even three years was enough time for me to figure out that she had a great deal of pride.”
“That’s not news, Chief.” Other than Maisey, who would know Josephine better than him?
She straightened her blotter. “What I’m trying to say is...there may have been certain circumstances in her life—distressing circumstances—she didn’t tell you about.”
His mother hadn’t told him anything in five years. But neither had there been any sign of unhappiness in those letters he’d found. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. Wouldn’t something have shown up—some complaint? “Like...”
Two lines formed on the chief’s forehead. “Thanks to an investment she made—a huge resort she and a group of partners were building in Jamaica at a total cost of over a billion dollars—she was losing everything, Mr. Lazarow. All her money. All her holdings. Everything.”
“No.” Keith stiffened. “That’s not possible. My mother would not have risked that much.”
“Perhaps the resort seemed like a good idea at the time, but a series of...unfortunate events put the project under water—literally.”
“I’m telling you she was more conservative than that.”
“I understand why you’d be skeptical.”
“She controlled a vast fortune.” One his grandfather had built and would’ve hated to see destroyed...
“I’m sure she expected everything to go well,” the police chief explained, “but, because of a tropical storm, the resort flooded, and the insurance refused to pay because of an exclusion in the fine print that had something to do with the footprint of the hotel portion. Then the other investors pulled out, cutting their losses and leaving your mother holding the bag.”
At the news that their mother had been losing everything, Maisey had gripped his arm. Now she surged to her feet. “The situation can’t be as dire as you’re making it sound,” she said. “I’ve been working at Love’s in Bloom since I returned to the island. Business has never been better.”
A sympathetic expression pulled at the corners of Underwood’s lips before she whirled around in her chair to get a file from the cabinet behind her. “That may be true, but the flower shop was only a small portion of her holdings. The income from that couldn’t even cover the expenses of running Coldiron House.”
“Then why didn’t she cut back?” Maisey asked. “She didn’t have to be quite as extravagant as she was.”
“Pride could be the answer to that, too,” Chief Underwood replied. “She probably feared people would start to guess that she was struggling, thought she could get back on top without giving herself away. And let’s face it. I doubt there was ever another time when she encountered this type of setback. She wasn’t used to failing.”
Could the destruction of the Coldiron empire—the financial pressure—have gotten to her? Keith wondered. She’d admired Grandpa Coldiron even more than he had. In her mind, no one could live up to his example. Perhaps she felt as if she’d let him down, as if she’d had nowhere to turn and couldn’t handle the humiliation of losing her status on the island, where she’d always been revered as the richest, most powerful person.
He had to admit it was possible, but chances were equally good that she had a plan. Josephine Coldiron-Lazarow would not go down without a fight—even if it meant marrying someone she didn’t love in order to obtain the money she needed. Keith could imagine her grooming her new beau, the Australian she’d met in first class, to help her retain her holdings and save face. “How do you know so much about her finances?”
“The second I started digging, I found nothing other than bills and fines and levies and trouble with the IRS,” Underwood replied. “The resort is sucking all the money away. You’ll probably have to file for bankruptcy.”
“No,” Keith began, but she talked over him.
“You’ll soon find out for yourself, since you’re the executor of her estate.”
Another surprise. Keith brought a hand to his chest. “I am? Is that a recent development?”
She scanned a document inside the file. “Not according to the date I see, which is almost five years ago. That was when the will was modified to include Roxanne. You were to get the flower store and Coldiron House. Maisey was to get Smuggler’s Cove. Roxanne was to inherit a chunk of land near the lighthouse. The rest of the estate the three of you were to hold jointly. Your mother’s diamond ring was supposed to go to Laney on her eighteenth birthday, by the way.”
She threw that aside to Maisey, who gasped a little when she heard it. “She left her ring to Laney? She loved my sweet child. That always came as such a shock to me.”
Chief Underwood winced at the pleasure in Maisey’s voice. “Only it’ll probably have to be sold. That’s why I hesitated to go into this today. I didn’t see any reason to upset you even more.”
“Why didn’t she disown me, like she swore she would?” Keith asked Maisey.
“That part doesn’t surprise me,” Maisey murmured. “Even when you two were fighting, she loved you best.”
Josephine had a funny way of showing it. Although Keith couldn’t say his mother had abused him by burning him with cigarettes, shutting him up in a cage or depriving him of food, she’d always been highly impatient, quick to anger and far too harsh. “I would’ve preferred to be Dad’s favorite, like you were,” he grumbled but directed his next remark to Chief Underwood. “Where did you find her will?”
“In her desk. I’m sorry if it seems like an invasion of privacy.” She pushed the file closer so Maisey could see for herself. “But if she was murdered, it could’ve been a key piece of evidence. I grabbed it, just in case. Besides, once a testator has died, the will becomes public record. I’m not the only one who’ll be able to read it, or get a copy, for that matter. Anyone who goes to the trouble of visiting the courthouse to request the probate file can do the same—once probate has been started, of course.”
“Who starts probate?” Maisey murmured as she read.
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“That’ll be Keith, as the executor.”
Maisey glanced over at him before returning her gaze to Chief Underwood. “But...how will the businesses and the estate run in the meantime? The flower shop needs to remain open. Nancy and Marlene, not to mention Pippa and Tyrone, rely on their paychecks.”
“Keith will have the power to act on your mother’s behalf until the court can make the appropriate distributions.” Underwood spoke in a smooth, businesslike tone. “But, as I indicated, there won’t be much to distribute—maybe a little personal property, which will go to the individuals named. Even then, I’m guessing your mother’s debtors will force you to sell her furniture and her jewelry, since it’s worth more than an average person’s would be.”
“Those are keepsakes and family heirlooms!” Maisey said.
“I’m sorry.” At least she seemed genuinely sympathetic. “It must come as a blow.”
“It’s a shock, I’ll admit. But this won’t change my life. I’ll still have what I have now—I just won’t be getting any more. Losing everything would’ve been very difficult for our mother.” Maisey nudged him. “Mom must’ve been distraught. And yet I had no idea.”
“None?” Keith asked.
Maisey shook her head. “None.”
Keith closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He hadn’t planned on staying on Fairham for long. He’d hoped to get his mother’s affairs organized so he could return within a couple of weeks, put some distance between himself and the man he used to be, get back on his regular schedule. But there was so much to try to save here, and it would be far more difficult to manage from across the country.
Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Maisey touched his sleeve. “Keith, this must be beyond upsetting to you. If you’d rather turn everything over to me, I...I’ll do what I can.”
His sister was a children’s book author, and she was married and trying to focus on raising her kids, one of whom was blind and required extra care. She had Rafe’s support, of course, but Rafe wouldn’t be able to help with this. He had his hands full running his own business.
